Chapter twenty-three
Chase, Chase, and Waite Law Offices, Canary Wharf
Russell
I stuff the unwanted letter from my father into my desk drawer. The three pages will go unread. All I needed to see was his opening line in his handwriting— I’m dying. I need you, son—to know I wasn’t interested in its contents.
He’s the last person I ever want to help.
Locked up is where he needs to be, whether he’s dying or not.
I hope he rots in a jail cell until he departs this earth.
I will never know why he felt it necessary to contact me now.
He can’t be stupid enough to think I would care after all the evil he did to my siblings and me.
His terminal diagnosis is something I’ll keep to myself. Everyone else he’s hurt doesn’t need to know. No one’s heartstrings will be pulled on because of my loose tongue. I look forward to notifying everyone of his death when it occurs.
Samantha arrived ten minutes ago; I saw her on the camera leaving the elevator.
She didn’t come to my office first, and now I’m pissed.
Grabbing my crutches, I maneuver myself from my desk to search for her, though I fucking know where she’ll be, and the fact she picked to see him first is infuriating.
Connor’s office door is ajar, but I hear the unmistakable laughter from across the office. Limping toward the sound, I push open the door with my crutch. It swings backward and clatters off the white wall. I hope it leaves a dent.
“You were to come to my office first,” I say, my tone conveying my annoyed attitude. Samantha sits on my brother’s desk as he leans back in his chair, staring at her. She glances over her shoulder and rolls her eyes.
“I decided not to,” she says with a smirk. “You don’t always get everything you want. That’s a lesson you need to learn.”
“I do always get what I want, Trouble.” Her eyes narrow, but a sexy smile plays on her lips. “And I’m the one with the broken leg, so why am I hobbling across the office to meet you both?”
“You shouldn’t be back at work,” she shoots back. “It’s too soon.”
“I told him that,” Connor adds.
“Don’t fucking gang up on me,” I mutter, pissed off by their tag-teaming. “All I would have done at home was sit with my laptop anyway. At least here I have company.”
“But you’re terrible company,” Connor tells me. Samantha jumps down, then leans over to kiss him on the forehead before turning to me. She saunters across the office insanely slowly before arriving at my side.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “I reckon you can be pretty good company.” She rises on tiptoe and places her lips on my cheek. It feels so fucking good. “Come and sit down, and I’ll tell you what happened at the hospital today.” She touches my elbow, directing me to the desk.
“I think this would be a better conversation to have with the others at The Level,” Connor suggests as I take my first step. “So we can all try to figure out what the hell is going on. I’ll call the others.”
Connor pushes his chair back and stands before walking around to the other side of his desk. He lifts the keys from the small bowl on the side table, throwing them up in the air before catching them in his palm. He walks past Sam and me in the direction of the door.
“Are you both coming?” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll drive.”
“Well, it's not as if I can fucking drive,” I call to his retreating back. Samantha giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound.
“You two are dreadful siblings,” she tells me. “Can you have a conversation and not try to annoy the other?”
“Trouble, we have spent over thirty years perfecting our relationship. Why would we change it when it works so beautifully?”
“Are you both coming?” Connor repeats from the doorway. “Come on, let’s go.” Samantha shakes her head but moves toward the door. Connor holds his hand out to her, and she takes it. “You hold onto your crutches, brother. I’ll make sure our girl is okay.”
“Once I’m back to normal,” I tell him, “I’ll kick your ass for taking advantage of my lack of mobility.”
Samantha passes by him and moves out of view.
My brother takes the opportunity to stick his tongue out like a schoolboy before turning away.
When I reach the door, he has wrapped an arm around her waist and is guiding her toward the elevators.
I limp behind them, thinking of all the ways I can make him pay in the future.
The elevator opens, and the two of them step inside.
As I go to join them, the doors begin to close.
“Hold the elevator,” I shout, but they continue to slide.
When I reach the threshold, I attempt to thrust one crutch between the doors but miss.
My last view is my brother placing his hand on Samantha’s face and dropping his lips to hers as they disappear behind the metal.
Infuriated by his teasing, I hit the button to call the elevator aggressively with the rubber stopper on the bottom of my crutch.
The band around it lights up orange, but the numbers continue to descend, stopping at the basement.
I watch impatiently as the numbers begin to rise again.
Eventually, the doors open, and I’m surprised to see Sam standing in the compartment. She smiles shyly, then bites her lip.
“I’m here to collect my patient,” she says, and my cock stirs in my suit. Fuck, I wish I was in a state to fuck her right here in the elevator.
“I’ll be raising a complaint with your boss,” I tell her, and her cheeks color. “Leaving an immobile man alone to disappear with your boyfriend isn’t very professional.” I step into the space with her, and the doors close. “But maybe you can convince me not to report you.”
“And how can I do that?”
“By making me fucking happy later on.”
We stare at each other as the elevator drops to the garage level.
I half expect to see Connor waiting for us when we arrive, but he’s already in his car and has pulled it closer to where we are.
Samantha walks at my pace as we make our way toward him, then she opens the passenger door.
I climb in beside my brother, but it’s difficult due to the height.
“This is a shit-mobile,” I mumble, annoyed, as Samantha takes my crutches.
“No, you’re just damaged goods,” Connor retorts.
“Stop it,” Samantha hisses. “You two are unbelievable. Can we manage a short drive with no bickering? You’re like a pair of pathetic teenage boys.”
My brother and I glance at each other, and Connor shrugs.
“Honestly, if I have to listen to another ‘my dick is bigger than your dick’-type debate. I’ll leave you both to it.”
She slams my door closed and scrambles into the rear seat, throwing my crutches on the floor.
“We’ve been told off,” Connor says, and we laugh.
“But there isn’t a snowball's chance in hell that we’ll ever stop,” I say. “Riling you up is one of my favorite pastimes.”
“And don’t I fucking know it.”
Connor slides the stick into gear, and we pull out of the underground parking garage into the busy London traffic.
Our apartments are around the corner, so it takes only minutes to arrive at The Level.
Once we’ve parked again in an underground parking area, we all clamber out of the vehicle and make our way to the elevator that directly accesses the boardroom.
“Everyone should be there,” Connor tells us. “I messaged them, and they were there anyway with Harrison. Hunter has a legal issue.”
“When doesn’t he,” I say as the doors open for us to find our friends already placed around the table, waiting for us. Harrison, Damon, and Hunter sit sipping on beer bottles and chatting amongst themselves as we enter the room.
“Good afternoon, lovers,” Hunter calls across, and I scowl at him.
He grins, completely unruffled by my expression.
Connor leads Samantha to a chair on the far side of the table then takes the seat beside her.
I limp over and sit on her other side. Harrison passes each of us a beer before taking his seat.
“So,” Damon says. “There are some updates regarding the organ theft we need to be aware of?”
“Yes,” Samantha tells him. “There were some developments at work. I think people are being brought to her to have their organs removed.”
“Well, that’s how organ donation works,” Damon says grumpily. “One person gives their organs to another.”
“Yes, but this girl said she was a family member and isn’t,” Samantha shoots back. “She was thin and dirty. All she wanted to do was sleep. I’m telling you now, something isn’t right.” Damon frowns but doesn’t respond.
I place my hand on Samantha’s thigh in support, and her eyes flick to me.
She smiles softly in thanks. Looking down, I see my brother has done the same thing.
His hand sits on her opposite thigh. We sit together, connected by this beautiful woman between us.
Both of us touching her, and her completing us.
“We have a problem,” Connor says, and I know what he’s going to say before he does.
“Samantha is working in a department which we suspect is harvesting stolen organs to order. She’s putting herself in danger to gain information.”
My brother doesn’t look at me. He’s taking the opportunity to put his opinion on the table before anyone else gets the chance.
“That isn’t a problem,” I say casually. “Having eyes on the inside will be beneficial.”
“I am not putting her in danger,” Connor states, as he straightens in his seat. Harrison sits, not speaking but watching every man in the room’s reaction. “I want her to quit. She shouldn’t be working in a department where we know there’s a potential danger.”
“I’m sitting fucking beside you,” Samantha snaps. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.”
“I won't have you endangering yourself,” he says, his head snapping around to face her. “You need to quit.”
“She doesn’t have to,” I counter. “It isn’t your position to tell her what to do. And we don’t know the whole situation with the organ retrieval or sale.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Connor says petulantly. He takes her hands in his. “I want you to quit.”
“No,” she says, “Russell is right. This isn’t your choice. And if we’re wrong about the criminal elements of this, I don’t want to give up on a career I love. My training is going well.”
Connor’s fist smashes down on the glass table; it vibrates beneath the impact. He closes his eyes then throws his head back before pushing himself out of his seat and storms around the room.
I don’t know why he’s surprised by her rebuke; we already had the same discussion in the penthouse, and her response was identical.
Maybe he was looking for support from the others but looking at them.
it isn’t forthcoming. They know as well as me how beneficial her being there could be for us in stopping this.
“We’ll protect her,” Hunter tells him.
I watch my brother crumble as the thoughts of what could go wrong hit him. The panic on his features is something I've not seen since we were kids, when my father decided to distribute punishment on one of us and made the other watch.
“How can we?” he shoots back. “We have no real idea what’s going on. But from experience, we all know that there is no corruption without evidence. And the little we have indicates something much bigger. Where there’s lawbreaking, there’s danger, and anyone close is at risk.”
He stops at Sam’s chair and kneels beside her.
His gaze moves around the room, hesitating on each of us.
“More than one of us in here has lost someone, temporarily or permanently, to our enemies.”
Harrison stands and walks over to him, then places a hand on his shoulder. The men look at each other. Silent acknowledgment passes between them as to what his words mean.
“Violet came back,” Harrison says softly. “We won. She’s here and safe with us.”
“But Connie wasn’t so lucky,” Connor replies, glancing at Damon, who swallows. “She lost her life because of the man she loved.”
“That’s harsh,” I snap at my brother. “You can’t blame McKinney for her death. The only people responsible are the man who ordered the hit and the bastard who pulled the trigger.”
“It’s okay. I feel responsible,” Damon mutters, and my sympathy grows again.
I used to hold him responsible too, until I accepted that no matter what we do, our loved ones don’t deserve to pay the price for our actions.
That said, we cannot control the choices of others—evil people do evil things.
They take revenge in the most devastating ways.
We can only hope the good we do outweighs the bad we create, and in the end, the results are something we can live with. I hope my friend can learn to do so.
“You shouldn’t,” I tell him. “Villains will always be malicious. And we’ll continue to fight it.”
“All I am saying is.” Connor’s focus moves back to the woman whose hands he’s now holding.
“I don’t want you to be unnecessarily put in harm's way. I couldn’t bear it if you’re hurt in all this. Now that we’re aware of the situation, we can get involved. But my involvement will put a target on your back as my partner.”
My skin prickles with the word “partner.”
He has never referred to anyone in that way.
Sam stills, then takes a deep breath. “I’m already in the middle,” she says. “And I’m more than capable of looking after myself. Let me help you all.”
Hunter stands and walks around to join us all, only leaving Damon on the opposite side of the table.
“Stand up,” he says to Samantha, and she glances at me.
I nod, unsure where he is going with this, but I trust him enough to allow it.
Sam rises, Connor following and standing at her side.
“How do we know you aren’t involved, nurse?”
She blinks at him, startled by the accusation.
Connor opens his mouth to protest, and Hunter raises his hand sharply to silence him.
We all watch in shock as Samantha suddenly drops to her knees, arms covering her face. Connor and I glance at one another, then he lowers himself down beside her, taking her hands and encouraging her to rise.
“Hunter wasn’t going to hit you,” he tells her. I push myself up as well to join them.
“Maybe he wasn’t,” I say. “But I want to know who fucking has hit you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. I reach out and touch her elbow, and wary eyes flick to me.
“Yes, it fucking does. I want a name. All this other shit can wait.” She pauses again, uncertainty painted blatantly on her face. “Trouble…” I warn. “I want his—”
“We want his,” Connor corrects me.
“Name. Now,” my brother and I demand in unison. We glance at one another and smile. In this situation, we’re one hundred percent together. Our words hit the air perfectly in sync. Samantha’s shoulders sag; she knows we won’t give this up without a name.
“Jasper,” she replies quietly. “Jasper Hastings.”